Don't Blame it On Me
by debraelq
Summary: A late night trip to Hogwarts resulted in a challenge Harry couldn't refuse. Snarry
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Twelve years ago to the day, my sister Sevfank and I started this fanfiction journey. I wrote my first real Harry Potter fanfic, Birthday Wishes, for her as a surprise. (You can read it under the name Ksevfand.) Any Harry Potter fan can tell you the significance of today-it is Alan Rickman's birthday. He would have been 70 years old today. As a treat for her I wrote this Snarry fanfiction. It will probably be about 3-4 chapters all together. My plan is to update every Saturday until it is finished. I hope you enjoy this.

Don't Blame It On Me

Part I

The shadows danced around him as he slipped quietly through the passageway, the tip of his wand illuminating his path. Every so often the light would splash against the walls, sliding over the sleeping paintings.

"Wandering the halls again after hours, Mr. Potter?" The deep voice was as menacing as always, with more than a touch of danger. Harry fought the urge to shiver. He couldn't see him yet but his heart was already pounding in anticipation.

"Professor." His voice sounded weak, and he cursed himself for that as he turned to face his former nemesis. Snape's presence filled the passageway and commanded his attention. Even the some of the portraits were now awake and whispering. Harry cleared his throat and tried for a more commanding tone. "I'm no longer a student, so it's really none of your concern."

His eyebrow rose, and Harry had the distinct feeling he was amused. Bastard.

"Parents are not allowed to just drop in at all times of the night, Mr. Potter."

"I was visiting a friend." He didn't owe him an explanation, but he couldn't seem to stop the words from tumbling out.

Snape stepped closer and Harry's heart stopped for a second and then sped up exponentially. He tried desperately not to show it.

Still, those dark eyes bored through him, as if he could read his mind even without the aid of a spell.

Harry sighed. "If you must know, the Headmistress requested my presence."

The wizard before him snorted, shattering just a bit of the dark mystique. It was just Snape, after all. Harry had built this moment of re-acquaintance up in his mind. He needed to calm down. He stole a quick breath, glaring at his former professor.

"I sincerely hope Mr. Weasley isn't lurking around the corner. This isn't a Golden Trio reunion is it? Because if so, I may need to take a leave of absence."

Harry couldn't stop the smile on his face. "Always the dramatic one, Snape. I'm sure Headmistress Granger enjoys your attempts at humor."

Snape crossed his arms. "Perhaps now would be a good time to discuss your attitude, Mr. Potter."

A thrill raced through his body, faster than any snitch and just as exciting. He was grateful for the cloak covering him. There was no need for Professor Snape to know that he no longer evoked terror in his former student. Snape's deliberate purr elicited other more embarrassing reactions. He hoped the evidence of that was safety hidden away.

"Here?" He glanced up at the portrait closest to them. Harry was sure the maids were feigning sleep, and his suspicion was confirmed when a small giggle escaped from the painting.

"You have an excellent point, Mr. Potter," he said with a dismissive tone. "There is a first for everything." He turned, his robes snapping to attention behind him.

Harry let the comment go unanswered. As he followed Snape to the dungeons, his good sense warred with his already aching body. Was he really going to be alone with his former Potions Professor and the star of his most embarrassing fantasies for the last ten years or so? Probably longer if he was honest with himself.

At the door to his office, Snape turned, his intense gaze sparking waves of pure want through his traitorous body. "And of course there is a matter of missing assignments and poor marks."

And just like that, Harry's lust cooled, and he was reminded of why he had tried to avoid Snape in the first place. There were many reasons he _should_ avoid the man, but this one had him visiting Hermione in the middle of the night. Because no matter how attracted he was to the professor, talking to the man about his son, Fred, would not end well.

Defying Weasley custom, he and Ginny had only had one child. Of course, that might have been because they only lasted a few years after their son was born. Although they were still friends, they just weren't really compatible as a couple. Given his obsession with his very male professor, he probably shouldn't be that surprised it didn't work out.

Harry followed Snape into the room, ignoring his surroundings and instead focusing on the man who both saved him and ruined his life.

He knew what Snape was going to tell him. Fred was not doing well in Potions class. But maybe that was because of Snape. It was no secret that he took his frustration out on Harry. And while part of that was due to appearances so that no one would suspect he was really on Dumbledore and the Order's side, Harry had seen inside the man's mind.

Professor Snape hated his father, James. And he had always compared Harry to him. What if he was now taking his vengeance out on Fred? A slow burning anger, like a warming spell gone wrong, heated up his body in an entirely different way. It grew until he worried it would explode like one of Seamus spells. He'd wondered if Snape's animosity, his _passion_ , might have been something else, something building, that he couldn't control, but no, it was about Snape hating the potter family all this time. Well, he wasn't going to let him treat his son like that. He wasn't.

By the time Snape turned to face him, Harry was livid, ready to have it out. He crossed his arms defiantly. "This is just like you, Snape," he said, spitting his words out like muggle bullets. "Taking your inadequacies out on a mere boy."

Snape opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He looked down his nose at Harry as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. "What are you on about, Potter?"

"I will not let you do this."

"I haven't done anything…yet." His voice lowered dangerously, his eyes dark.

In a moment of clarity, Harry saw it, and some of his anger dissipated. Something he didn't notice when he was younger. It was there in the way Snape's lips tightened. A ruse to hide his vulnerability. Harry glanced away. He couldn't watch those lips and maintain his composure. That mouth he dreamed about late at night.

"My son will not be your latest Gryffindor target."

Snape snorted again. How and why did he find that attractive? "I'm afraid young Mr. Potter has too much Weasley in him."

Harry tightened his lists, glaring at his professor.

"Not necessarily a bad thing, Potter. He's creative, persistent, … somewhat intelligent, but he has a stubbornness about him." Snape tilted his head, contemplating. "Maybe he has too much of _you_ in him. All I know is that he could do better if he applied himself.' He paused dramatically, staring at Harry. "Sound familiar?"

Harry was sure Snape was baiting him, but he couldn't let it go. "Just because you don't like me is no reason to abuse my son."

Snape sighed. "There is no part of that sentence that's correct," he said softly.

Harry tried to focus but his brain had stalled. Snape didn't dislike him. Could that be true?

"Your son's not doing well in Potions class because he's slacking off. Are you suggesting that I should give your son special treatment, Mr. Potter, because of who he is?"

"No," Harry said. "Of course not."

"Then what would you have me do?" Snape held his hands out, as if he was surrendering. But that would never happen. Still, Harry's mind helpfully supplied an image of Snape surrendering-to him. Not actually helpful at all. "Ask him," Professor Snape said. "Ask him if I'm abusing him."

But Harry didn't need to ask his son. He could hear the truth in Snape's voice. The man was truly offended that Harry would think that of him.

Could it be that Fred just wasn't applying himself? He was struggling in other classes as well. Not that Harry was brilliant at school either. His aptitude in Potions was probably _because_ of Snape. There was some part of him that wanted to impress the Potions Master.

"Then what's this about, Professor? Why are we talking about my son?"

"No idea."

Harry was confused. "You said we were going to discuss Potions assignments and poor marks."

"Ah yes. But at no time did I mention your son."

Harry gaped at him. "I don't understand."

"Close your mouth, Potter. It's not a good look for you." His chin rose, as he peered down his nose at him. "Unless, of course, you're on your knees."

Harry's mouth quickly clamed shut. Did Snape just say… did he really acknowledge the sexual tension between them? Harry couldn't think. His brain was stuck. All the needed oxygen was racing South along with all the blood in his body. He couldn't come up with a snappy retort. All he could do was envision himself on his knees in front of Snape. The professor's hand reaching out to grab his hair, the other hand opening his cloak…

"Now if you're going to be a good, quiet little boy perhaps I can explain why you _are_ here."

 _Fuck._ A demanding Snape was a sure turn on. Harry just nodded, not trusting his voice, trying to calm his body down from full alert.

Snape's eyes glittered dangerously and he couldn't look away. "Good. There's hope for you yet."

Harry gulped down as much air as he could, trying to restore the oxygen to his brain. He needed to be sharp if he expected to survive this encounter. Some part of him knew he was already lost.

"At the end of your seventh year, you decided to quit school…"

"To fight the Dark Lord and save the world…"

"And in doing so," Snape continued without missing a beat, "you did not complete your end of year Potions exams. Now, I'm sure you understand the gravity of the situation, Mr. Potter."

"I'm not sure I do, Professor." Harry was done being demure, at least for now. Submission had its place. But he couldn't think about _that_. "I'm an Auror. I was given an honorary diploma from Hogwarts. I received a medal of honor for my assistance in defeating Voldemort. And you didn't even teach Potions when I left. So tell me Professor, why does it matter if I didn't finish?"

"It matters to me."

Harry didn't know what to say. The smoldering look on Snape's face told him this wasn't about an unfinished exam. It was about unfinished business. A thrill ran through him in anticipation. If Snape wanted to play this game. He was more that up for it.

"I see your point," Harry conceded. "It's a matter of pride. What do you suggest?"

"One final potion."

"And you doubt that I can finish this potion?"

Snape smiled but there was no warmth—it was almost predatory. "I doubt you can finish this potion while following the rules. Something you seem to _always_ struggle with and another thing you share with your son."

Harry straightened to his full height. He was still shorter than his professor but not by much. They were on equal terms here. "Fine, but I have a rule of my own."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Interesting that you think this is a negotiation," he said. "Although I am curious. Go on."

"No mentions of my son during your little test."

"Agreed," he said, his voice rising dramatically. "Rule number one: you will do exactly as I say, how I say it."

Harry couldn't hide the excitement in his body at the thought of being under the Potions Master control.

"Rule number two: no talking back."

"But Professor, I thought you liked it when I talked back."

Snape smiled. "There's a time and place for everything, Potter. Don't worry, your mouth will be put to good use at the proper time."

"I doubt there's anything proper about this, Professor."

"This rule is going to be difficult for you, isn't it?" He tapped his long finger against his lips. "Well then, rule number three: broken rules will result in punishment."

Harry had difficulty breathing. There was a time in his life when the thought of punishment from his Potions professor was worse than fighting a Horn-toed dragon. But now it was all he could do not to break every rule he had just to feel the wizard's wrath.

But he had his pride. And they were taking too long. It was all taking too fucking long. Just thinking about what Snape might have in store make him as hard as a certain well-known stone. Who was he kidding? He'd been hard as soon as Snape mentioned him getting on his knees.

"Let's get on with it then," he said, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his robes.

"Eager, Potter. I like that. Just don't get sloppy." Snape flicked his wand, and Harry's cloak disappeared. "You won't need this."

"But um…" The words jumbled around in his head. He wasn't nervous. Not really. He was sure he could do this potion in his sleep. It was the thought that with a flick of his wand, Snape could make his clothes disappear. He shut his eyes. He had to get control or he was going to embarrass himself.

"I hope you're ready for this challenge, Potter." Snape crooked his eyebrows. With another flick of his wrist a table appeared, full of potions ingredients and a caldron. He walked around the table, looking Harry over with a seemingly disinterested eye. "But do stand up straight." He moved behind him, so close Harry could feel the heat radiating off of him. "And widen your stance." With a kick of his legs he knocked Harry's foot, parting his legs even further.

He had no doubt that Snape's intent was to humiliate him- take him down a peg or two but it had quite the opposite effect. Being spread like that in front of his professor did things to his body that make difficult to focus on the potion or anything else but the man behind him. But obviously humiliation was not his Potion Master's only intent. And that made Harry's skin tingle with excitement. He also felt exposed. What if he put himself out there, and Snape didn't want him as much as he wanted the older wizard?

"Here are the instructions. Are you ready to add your ingredients, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Sir."

Another flick and an hour glass appeared beside him. The sand dropped ominously, as Harry waited for his cue.

"Begin."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry I didn't get this out on Saturday. I still plan to update every Saturday if possible.

Don't Blame It On Me Part II

Harry tried to focus on the potion, but it was difficult with Snape right behind him. He was distracted by the Potions Master's unique scent, and he longed to analyze so he could recreate it later. There was a hint of sandalwood...

Harry shut down that part of his brain. He just needed to concentrate on the task at hand—a pointless exercise devised by a sadistic bastard who was at that moment trailing his hand along the edge of the table. He'd dreamed about those long fingers. Shaking off his unhelpful thoughts, Harry sliced, poured, and crumbled the ingredients into the potion carefully. It had to be perfect to impress Snape. And Harry was determined to show him that he was more than just Voldie's plaything.

Snape prowled to the other side of the table, crossed his arms, and stared at him, the challenge evident in his gaze. He was watching for the slightest mistake. The intense scrutiny caused Harry's hand to shake slightly, and he dropped his knife.

Snape was beside him in an instant. How did he manage to move- _glide_ so eloquently? "Focus, Potter."

It was said calmly enough but the fact that Snape growled the words in his ear was Harry's undoing. Why did he have a domineering asshole fetish? Why couldn't he be attracted to normal wizards?

Harry hastily added the wormroot ready to be done with the whole thing. But as he stirred, the potion turned a sickly yellow. That wasn't right. Wasn't it was supposed to be green? He reached for the potion instructions.

"Enough!" Snape's hand slapped on the table punctuating his command.

Harry practically jumped out of his skin, glaring at his prior Potion's professor who was currently working himself into a tizzy. So much for impressing him.

"The great Harry Potter and yet, you can't even get a simple potion correct."

"I don't understand. I followed it exactly." Or as exactly as he could with sweat running down his back and an ever growing hard on demanding his attention. Snape yelling did not help with that situation. At all.

"You added the ground ginger root when you should have added the wormroot. What were you thinking?"

The two ingredients looked almost identical. Obviously, a trap. "I thought you would put the correct ingredients out," Harry said, not loudly but still enough to be heard.

Snape ignored him. "You can't focus, Potter. This has always been your problem."

And just like that Harry had had enough. He clenched his hands, resisting the urge to grab his wand and hit him with a burning itch spell. Snape seemed genuinely irritated that he'd messed up the potion, even though he intentionally sabotaged the making of said potion. Bastard.

"Answer the question, Potter. What were you daydreaming about when you should have been focusing on this potion?"

 _Being bent over the table and fucked well and good_. But he couldn't say that. Snape raised his eyebrow, challenging him. But Harry was too angry and felt too vulnerable to admit anything. What if Snape didn't feel the same way or what if the end goal was to humiliate him? They'd had too many years of animosity and _pain_ between them for any real trust now. So instead of admitting how much he wanted him, Harry went on the attack.

"Why did you have those ingredients out, Professor? To insure I would fail? So you could finally punish Harry Potter, the boy who dared to live, like you've always wanted," he yelled, no longer rational at all. He was driven by his fear and frustration. He wanted to punish Snape for making him feel this way and then doing nothing about it.

"You have to be prepared for anything, Potter." His voice was dangerously low, but Harry ignored the warning.

"I don't have to do anything. I'm not your student any longer, Snape. I'm done." And he meant it. This was all a mistake from the get go. He wasn't playing Snape's games any longer. Because he would be the one to lose.

"I've endured 17 years of this torture," Snape said, grabbing Harry by the arm. "And I've had it. Do you hear me, Potter?"

"I torture you? What was the last 15 minutes about?"

"You will listen to me, Potter." Snape grabbed his shirt, pulling him close. Snape's jaw was clenched in anger but his eyes were wild with desire. Harry was obviously not the only one unhappy about his body's demands. Just for a second Harry thought he was going to kiss him. Instead Snape placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him down. "On your knees." Snape's voice was barely controlled and damn if that wasn't hot as hell.

Harry complied, his anger gone, replaced by an intense need as his heart tried to bounce right out of his throat. He swallowed it down, taking a deep breath.

"Your much needed lessons on obedience will begin right now." He pulled Harry's hair, forcing his face up. His finger traced the side of Harry's face as his eyes burned through him. He drew his thumb over Harry's open lips-sometimes gentle, sometimes not. "But first, we have to do something about your mouth. It continues to get you in trouble. Suggestions?"

His eyes flicked up from Harry's mouth to his eyes. Snape's pupils were blown with lust. Harry was sure his own matched.

"Whatever you think is best, Professor. Maybe it needs to be filled." The last bit he whispered. Even now he was hesitant to show Snape how much he wanted it. Wanted him.

"You'd like that wouldn't you, Potter." His grip tightened, arousing Harry even more. "You're gagging for my cock aren't you? Fucking your pretty little mouth, spit and come dripping out as I stuff you full."

An embarrassing whimper escaped his mouth in response. Why did Snape talking dirty to him turn him on so much? All he knew was that he needed it now.

"Show me." Snape shoved his thumb into his mouth, and Harry latched on, glad to finally have something. He sucked greedily, wanting to slow down and lick and tease but unable to control himself. But it was not enough. Not near fucking enough.

With a growl, Snape pulled his head back and withdrew his thumb. At first, Harry was afraid he'd disappointed his professor, but a glance at his eyes told a different story. That and the fact that Snape was trying to undo the buttons on his pants.

"Fuck!" With a growl Snape let go of him and grabbed his wand off the desk. A quick spell later and they were both naked. The stone floor was cold on his knees, but Harry was more than all right with it. At some point, he would love to slowly undress his professor but now was not the time. Now he needed more.

Snape clutched his hair again as he pushed him toward his engorged member. Harry swallowed quickly before opening his mouth. Snape was impressive and definitely more than a mouthful. Those thoughts were fleeting as Snape rubbed the head of his cock against Harry's lips. Then without warning he thrust inside, filling Harry up. Snape barely let him adjust as he pulled out and slammed in again. Harry sucked and swirled and loosened his throat so Snape could go deep, trying to take it all as Snape fucked his mouth. Without permission—because honestly how could he ask—Harry reached up and fondled his balls. He wasn't going to waste this chance. It might never come again. Snape jerked, and then slammed in one last time, holding Harry still as he came down his throat.

Snape pulled out with a grunt, breathing heavily. He wiped Harry's mouth with his thumb, then sucked his own juices off of it.

"We're going to try that again, Mr. Potter," he said, "and this time, try using more finish and less spit."

Harry tried not to smirk, and probably failed. They both knew he didn't have anything to do with that. It was evidently one of his professor's fantasies for a long time. He wanted to ask him how long-since his seventh year or even before? But he knew better than to tempt fate.

"I will need some time to recover, so I suggest you stand up. We wouldn't want to wear out your knees, now would we?"

Harry was grateful to be off the stone floor, but he needed relief. The way Snape stared at his straining erection was not helping at all. "Professor," Harry asked, as demurely as he could, "what now?"

So many scenarios were swirling around in Harry's head. He didn't really have a preference, as long as he was able to get off.

Snape's gaze traveled up to his face, giving nothing away.

"Now, Mr. Potter?" he said, his voice practically purring. "Now, you finish the potion I need. Correctly."


End file.
